Vision Of Yesterday
by J. B. Tilton
Summary: When Phoebe has a vision of the past, she become embroiled in a small towns' dark secret.


CHARMED  
"VISION OF YESTERDAY"  
by J. B. Tilton  
and Tracie Joy  
  
Rating: R (for mild language and graphic content)  
  
Disclaimer: "Charmed" and all related characters and events are  
the property of the WB television network, except for those  
characters specifically created for this story. This is a work of fan  
fiction and no infringement of copyright is intended.  
  
* * *  
  
(AUTHORS' WARNING: This story contains scenes of graphic  
violence which may not be suitable for younger children. Parental  
guidance is recommended.)  
  
* * *  
  
When Phoebe has a vision of the past, she become embroiled  
in a small towns' dark secret.  
  
* * *  
  
ONE  
  
Phoebe drove down the highway with the sun hanging low on  
the horizon. She was feeling much better than she had for several  
days. Today was the anniversary of her mothers' death. After so  
many years of being without her mother, Phoebe decided to visit  
the lake where she had died. To try and finally put that memory to  
rest.  
  
It had worked better than she had hoped. She sat on the shore  
and thought about the memories she had of her mother. And she  
had thrown some flowers into the lake to commemorate the  
anniversary. A way of saying goodbye finally.  
  
Not that she had that many memories. She had always felt  
disassociated from, or cheated, by not knowing her mother better.   
This trip was her way of making peace with the past. Piper didn't  
need to make peace with the past. She had been older than  
Phoebe when Patty had died. She had more memories of their  
mother and had made her peace long ago.  
  
Phoebes' time at the lake alone had given her time to deal with  
the frustration and aloneness she had always felt. By herself,  
sitting on the edge of the lake, knowing that a part of her mother  
would always be there, she had finally been able to say goodbye.   
A sense of peace had come over her, and she knew that her  
mother understood her feelings finally.  
  
Now, she was on the way home. She felt more refreshed and  
invigorated than she had for a long time. She knew one of the  
reasons this year had been so bad was because it was the first  
anniversary of her mothers' death since Prue had died. Those two  
losses had nearly overwhelmed her. Now, she had made peace  
with the deaths of both her mother and Prue.  
  
Phoebe saw a sign ahead that read "Grovers Bend 3 Miles" with  
an arrow pointing to the right. She looked at the gas gauge. The  
needle was hovering near the "E" on the gauge. The next town on  
the highway was almost twelve miles away. She decided not to  
chance it.  
  
She turned the car onto the small paved road and drove to  
Grovers Bend. She liked the sound of it. It sounded very friendly.   
Having grown up in the big city, a small country town would be very  
refreshing.  
  
The sun was just starting to set as she pulled into the town.   
There appeared to be only a single gas station in the town. Thank  
God it was still open. She pulled in and stopped next to the gas  
pump. She got out and started to pump gas into the car.  
  
"Hang on there, little lady," said a man coming out of the station.   
"Around Grovers Bend you get full service. You just sit back and  
I'll take care of everything."  
  
"Thanks," said Phoebe. "It's nice to find a full service gas  
station."  
  
"Well, we're kind of off the beaten path," said the man. "We  
don't get many visitors out this way. We like to make them feel at  
home."  
  
"Well, you've certainly done that," said Phoebe smiling.  
  
The man reminded her somewhat of her father. Since he had  
come back into their lives, she didn't get to see him as much as she  
would like. Still, it did help to make up for all the years she and her  
sisters had spent without him.  
  
"You staying?" asked the man.  
  
"No, just passing through," said Phoebe. "I live in San  
Francisco. I've been gone for a few days and my sisters are  
probably going crazy worrying about me."  
  
"I understand," said the man.  
  
Just then, two women walked past the station. They kept  
looking at Phoebe and whispering to each other. Even after they  
had passed the station, they glanced back and whispered to each  
other.  
  
"Don't mind them," said the man, noticing Phoebe watching the  
woman. "Some of the women can be kind of busy bodies at times.   
Especially when strangers are involved."  
  
"Not much different from the big city," said Phoebe. "Only they  
can be a bit more than just busy bodies."  
  
"I know that," said the man. "From what I've seen on television,  
I'm glad I live in Grovers Bend."  
  
"Well, I've lived in the city my whole life," said Phoebe. "I'm not  
sure I could live in a small town like this."  
  
"All filled up," said the man, putting the nozzle back into the  
pump. "That'll be twelve seventy nine."  
  
Phoebe handed him a twenty and looked around the quiet,  
sleepy little town while he brought her the change. He came back  
out of the building and placed the change in her hand.  
  
"If you're heading to San Francisco," said the man, "there's a  
shorter way. Go down this road out the other end of town. Take  
the first left past the city limits. It takes you right back to the  
highway, but it should cut about twenty minutes off your trip."  
  
"Thanks," said Phoebe. "I appreciate it. Well, if I'm ever by this  
way again, I'll be sure to stop by here for gas."  
  
"We'll be glad to have you," said the man, smiling.  
  
Phoebe got into her car and started to drive through town. It  
was pretty much as she imagined it. People walked the streets in  
the last rays of the setting sun. Phoebe imagined people staring at  
her as she drove through town. It was probably just her  
imagination. They were probably just curious about who was  
passing through their town.  
  
In the center of town was a quaint little town square. In the  
center of the square was what must have been a courthouse. It  
was a magnificent three story building with ornately carved corners.   
On the very top was an old fashioned bell tower. Phoebe could  
imagine that the building was well over one hundred years old. In  
those days, the courthouse was usually the center of the  
community. The bell tower would have been used to give  
warnings, announce gatherings and meetings, and myriad other  
functions.  
  
She continued down the road soaking in the ambience of the  
small town. Just the drive through this place out of time was  
refreshing. When she left the town she hadn't gone more than  
about three hundred yards when she came to an old house.  
  
She didn't know way, but she felt compelled to pull to the side of  
the road and look at the house. It was like another house. A  
square frame with curtains in the window. It was a peaceful setting.   
Phoebe could imagine living in a house like that.  
  
Suddenly, the vision hit her.  
  
She was quite used to them. Premonitions of the future which  
warned her of an innocent in danger. Or the attack of a demon or  
equally evil entity on an innocent. But unlike any previous vision,  
this one was disturbingly realistic.  
  
She watched in her minds' eye helplessly as three men about  
her age grabbed a young girl of perhaps fifteen. They threw the girl  
into the back of a bright blue pickup truck. One of the men drove  
the pickup to what looked like a cemetery, while the other two held  
the girl down in the bed of the truck, ripping her clothes away.  
  
When they reached the cemetery, each of the men took a turn  
with the girl. They bound her by the wrists and ankles so she  
couldn't fight them. As they savagely raped the young girl, they  
beat her until she simply collapsed into near unconsciousness.  
  
When the three men had finished with the girl, one of the men  
took a pistol out of the glove box of the truck and shot the girl in the  
head. She fell to the bed of the truck dead. The three men  
laughed hysterically as they drove to a house and unceremoniously  
dumped the poor girls' naked body in front of the house, then drove  
away.  
  
TWO  
  
Phoebe was nearly in tears when the vision had ended. Most of  
her visions lasted only a few seconds. This one seemed to last for  
hours, though she knew it had been no more than a minute or two.   
And it had been so realistic, she almost felt as if she had been  
there.  
  
Phoebe turned the car around and drove back into town. She  
pulled into a parking space at the sheriffs' office and went inside. A  
deputy sat behind the desk. He looked up and smiled at her as she  
came in.  
  
"Can I help you?" asked the man.  
  
"I'd like to report an assault," said Phoebe. "I'm not sure where  
it's at but it's in a cemetery near here. A young girl about fifteen  
and three men in a blue pickup truck."  
  
"I'm Sheriff Wilson," said a man about forty coming out of the  
back room. "What's this about an assault?"  
  
"A young girl about fifteen," said Phoebe. "She's assaulted by  
three men in a pickup truck. Somewhere in a cemetery near here."  
  
The sheriff looked at his deputy, whose smile disappeared. A  
look of concern crossed the deputies face.  
  
"We know all about it," said the sheriff. "Only I'm afraid you're a  
bit late. It happened four days ago. Madelaine Cruise, the girls'  
mother, has already claimed the body. Tell me, what made you  
wait so long to report it."  
  
"Well, uh," stammered Phoebe, "I, uh, guess I was afraid of  
getting involved. My, uh, conscience just got the better of me. The  
men who did it drive a blue pickup truck."  
  
"You saw the attack?" asked the sheriff nervously.  
  
"Well, not exactly," said Phoebe. "But if you'll check with  
anyone who drives a blue pickup truck, I'm sure you'll find the ones  
who did this. There were three of them."  
  
"A blue pickup," said the deputy. "That could be half the  
pickups in the county."  
  
"If you didn't see it," asked the sheriff, "how do you know it was  
three men in a blue pickup truck?"  
  
"Listen," said Phoebe, "it doesn't matter how I know. I just do.   
Just find three guys in a blue pickup and you'll find the ones who  
did it."  
  
"We're conducting an investigation right now," said the sheriff,  
showing a forced smile. "I'll be sure to add your blue pickup to our  
investigation. Thank you for reporting it."  
  
After Phoebe left, the deputy turned to the sheriff.  
  
"The Collins boys drive a blue pickup," he said.  
  
"I know," said the sheriff. "She's probably just a crank. Forget  
about her."  
  
"Already forgotten," said the deputy.  
  
Outside, Phoebe was furious. A young girl had been brutally  
raped and murdered and she knew this sheriff wasn't going to do  
anything about it. That meant she had to do something.  
  
What was the womans' name? Madelaine Cruise. That's what  
the sheriff had said. Phoebe got into her car and drove to the post  
office. She found out where Madelaine Cruise lived and was  
surprised to see it was the same house where she had her vision.   
That was probably why she had the vision. That's where the men  
had dumped the girls' body after the attack and murder.  
  
She drove out to the house in the dark. As she pulled into the  
driveway, she noticed a light on in the living room. She stopped the  
car and went up to the front door. She wasn't sure what she was  
going to say. This woman had just lost her daughter and the local  
authorities apparently weren't doing anything to try and find her  
killers. And Phoebe wasn't sure what she could do about it.  
  
But her premonitions meant that she was supposed to help.   
Well, this wasn't exactly a premonition. Most of her visions were of  
the future. But occasionally, like this, she had flashes of the past.   
Of something that had already happened. She couldn't change  
what had happened but she could do something about it.  
  
She knew what she was meant to do. Since the sheriff wasn't  
taking the murder seriously, it would be up to her to bring the  
murderers to justice. How she would do this, she didn't know. But  
she knew she had to try. If only so no one else went through such  
an awful experience as this young girl did.  
  
Phoebe rang the doorbell.  
  
A woman answered the door. The woman appeared to be in  
her mid to late thirties. She wore a white flower patterned dress  
and had her hair tied back. He eyes were still slightly puffy from  
crying.  
  
Phoebe knew about crying over the loss of a loved one. After  
Prues' death, she had cried for what seemed an eternity.   
Eventually, however, she knew that even this woman would get on  
with her life. But for now, there was the matter of bringing her  
daughters' killers to justice.  
  
"Are you Madelaine Cruise?" asked Phoebe.  
  
"Yes," said the woman. "Can I help you with something?"  
  
"I'd like to talk to you for a minute, if I could," said Phoebe.  
  
"I'm sorry," said the woman, "if you're selling something, you'll  
have to come back another time."  
  
"I'm not selling anything," said Phoebe. "My name is Phoebe  
Halliwell. I really hate to disturb you right now, but this is . . . about  
your daughter."  
  
The woman looked at Phoebe. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if  
trying to gauge Phoebe.  
  
"My daughter died four days ago," said the woman coldly.  
  
"I know," said Phoebe. "She was raped and murdered by three  
men in a pickup truck. I told the sheriff about it, but he doesn't  
seem to take me seriously."  
  
"How do you know that?" asked the woman nearly screaming.   
"Were you there? Did you see it happen?"  
  
"No, I wasn't there," said Phoebe. "But I did see it happen.   
Well, sort of, anyway. Listen, it's complicated. If I could just come  
in for a minute, I'll be glad to tell you everything I can. I want to  
help."  
  
The woman looked a Phoebe deliberately for a moment.  
  
"You're a witch," said the woman.  
  
THREE  
  
Phoebe looked at the woman with shock. The words hadn't  
been an accusation. Nor were they said in disgust as someone  
might say. They were simply a statement.  
  
"Well, yes, actually I am," said Phoebe. "How did you know  
that?"  
  
"Come in," said the woman. "We need to talk."  
  
As Phoebe entered the womans' house, the woman looked  
back toward town as if expecting someone to be following Phoebe.   
She then closed and locked the door behind Phoebe.  
  
"I know you're a witch," said Madelaine, "because so am I. After  
my husband died five years ago, I decided to move out here. So  
that Patty, my daughter, could have some sort of normal life. I  
didn't want her growing up worrying about demons or warlocks.   
Here, she could be a normal teenager. I could teach her The Craft  
and when she was old enough, she could decide if she wanted to  
return to that life."  
  
"Patty," said Phoebe. "That was my mothers' name. She died  
on this date when I was very little. I was out visiting the place  
where she died. When I was going home, I had to stop here for  
gas. Then I had a premonition of your daughters' attack. When I  
went to the sheriff about it, he seemed less than interested."  
  
"Of course," said Madelaine. "When they found Pattys' body,"  
she chocked slightly on the name, "her death was linked to the  
Collins brothers. Their three brothers who live on the other side of  
town. They're about twenty five or thirty and they're real bad news.   
Always getting drunk and causing trouble. No one can prove it, but  
I'm sure it was they who did this horrible thing."  
  
"What kind of car do they drive?" asked Phoebe suspiciously.  
  
"A blue pickup truck," said Madelaine.  
  
"That's what I saw in my vision," said Phoebe. "Three men in a  
blue pickup truck."  
  
"Then it was them," said Madelaine, anger in her voice. "I  
wasn't completely sure until now. Otherwise I would have cast a  
spell to punish them for what they did."  
  
"You can't do that," said Phoebe. "You know you can't use your  
powers for personal gain. Even to punish the evil that these men  
have done. You have to let the authorities handle it."  
  
"But they aren't handling it," said Madelaine angrily. "The sheriff  
is sitting on his hands. Everyone in town is afraid of the Collins  
brothers, even the sheriff. He's not going to do anything about it."  
  
"Then we'll go to the state police," said Phoebe. "I can take you  
in my car. There's a state police station a few miles down the road.   
We'll tell them what happened and that the local authorities aren't  
doing anything about it."  
  
"What about the Collins'?" asked Madelaine. "How will we  
explain that someone who wasn't there saw what happened?"  
  
"We'll tell them that someone said they saw their truck in the  
area when the attack occurred," said Phoebe. "We don't have to  
give a name. Just that someone supposedly reported it and that  
the sheriff won't even investigate it. They'll have to send someone  
here to make sure the crime isn't being ignored. Not even the  
sheriff can put off the state police. They'll do their own  
investigation."  
  
"You sound like you've had experience in this type of thing,"  
said Madelaine.  
  
"My, uh, boyfriend used to be a district attorney," said Phoebe,  
thinking of Cole. "I know that's what he would say we should do.   
Besides, it's the only way. We can't punish them ourselves. You  
know the rules. No use of powers for personal gain."  
  
"I know," said Madelaine. "It's just so hard under these  
circumstances. I'm thirty seven years old and I've never been put  
in a situation like this. All I want to do is burn them alive slowly."  
  
"If my sister was here," said Phoebe, "she'd tell you the same  
thing. No matter what, you can't go after them yourself."  
  
"Your sister is a witch, too?" asked Madelaine.  
  
"Yes," said Phoebe. "Actually, all three of us are. I have two  
sisters."  
  
"The Charmed Ones," said Madelaine. "I had no idea you were  
a Charmed One. I didn't think they were supposed to be here so  
soon. I always thought it would be several years before they  
appeared."  
  
"You knew we were coming?" asked Phoebe.  
  
"The coven I belonged to in San Diego," said Madelaine, "was  
concerned with Wicca prophecies. There are many regarding the  
Charmed Ones. I never thought I would actually meet one of you."  
  
"Then you know I'm right," said Phoebe. "Our only option is to  
go to the state police."  
  
"And if they won't help?" asked Madelaine.  
  
"Then we go to the States' Attorney," said Phoebe. "Or the  
F.B.I. Or anyone who WILL listen. Someone will listen to us.   
Trust me. It's the only way."  
  
"Okay," said Madelaine. "I can't argue with a Charmed One.   
But I swear to you, Phoebe. If no one will help us, I WILL deal with  
them myself. They won't get away with what they've done. She  
was only fifteen. She hadn't even started to live yet. They're going  
to pay for what they did."  
  
"I'll help you make them pay," said Phoebe. "But according to  
the law. If you take this into your own hands, you could be  
seduced to evil. We can't let that happen. There's too much evil in  
the world already."  
  
"Okay," said Madelaine. "Let me get my coat and we'll go to the  
state police."  
  
She stood up but before she could move, the front door to her  
house burst open. Several men rushed into the house, brandishing  
weapons. They surrounded Phoebe and Madelaine.  
  
FOUR  
  
"So, witch," said one of the men, "you decided to take matters  
into your own hands. If you had left town when you were told to,  
none of this would have happened."  
  
"What are you doing here?" demanded Madelaine. "How dare  
you break into my house. Especially when I'm still grieving about  
my daughter."  
  
"I guess your grieving is a little easier now," said another man.   
"You murdered the Collins boys, then burned down their house.   
They're bodies are almost unrecognizable."  
  
"I didn't do that," said Madelaine. "I wasn't even certain it was  
them. If I had, I might have done what you said. But I didn't. Not  
that I'm not glad it happened."  
  
"Liar," said the first man. "We know it was you. Who's this, one  
of your witch friends?"  
  
"She has nothing to do with this," said Madelaine. "She just  
stopped here for directions."  
  
"Bring her along," said the first man. "Let her see how we deal  
with witches in Grovers Bend."  
  
Several of the men each grabbed Phoebe and Madelaine. Even  
with her martial arts skill, Phoebe couldn't fight so many men at  
once. All she could do is struggle against them, trying to get free.  
  
If she had Pipers' freezing ability or Paiges' orbing ability, she  
might have stood a chance against the mob. As it was, neither her  
premonition ability nor her ability to levitate was particularly useful  
at the moment.  
  
The two women were unceremoniously thrown into the back of  
a pickup truck. Several men climbed in beside them and sat  
around as guards, their weapons ready. There were four or five  
trucks parked out front of the house. The rest of the people  
climbed into the rest of the trucks, and all of the trucks sped away  
into town.  
  
They stopped at the courthouse in the center of the square.   
Phoebe was forced out of the truck and forced to one corner of the  
courthouse. Madelaine, escorted by four large men, was forcibly  
taken into the courthouse. In a few minutes, everyone looked up.  
  
Phoebe looked up and the sight that greeted her chilled her to  
the bone. Standing on the very top of the courthouse, in the  
window to the bell tower, was Madelaine and the four men who had  
taken her into the building. One of the men placed a rope  
fashioned into a noose around her neck. Even three stories below,  
Phoebe could see that the other end of the rope was fashioned to  
ring that should have held the bell.  
  
"You can't do this," screamed Phoebe. "She didn't do this. I  
was with her. She couldn't have done it."  
  
"Shut up," said a man, who then slapped Phoebe. She fell to  
the ground. "We've tolerated her kind her long enough. Grovers'  
Bend is a good town. We won't have a witch corrupting that."  
  
"Stop this," said a voice from the back of the crowd.  
  
Everyone turned to see the sheriff and his deputy standing just  
a few feet away.  
  
"Take her down from there," ordered the sheriff.  
  
"Stay out of this, Hank," said the first man who had spoken in  
Madelaines' house. "This is justice. She murdered the Collins  
boys and burned their house down. She's going to pay for that."  
  
"You can't just murder her like this," said the sheriff. "No one  
here liked the Collins boys. Why would you want to avenge their  
deaths? Even assuming Madelaine did do it."  
  
"They were a part of this town," said a woman. "If we let her get  
away with this, there's no telling who's next."  
  
"Hank," said another man, leveling a shotgun at the sheriff, "stay  
out of this. I don't want to hurt you. But you aren't going to save  
this witch."  
  
The sheriff didn't say a word. He just turned and walked back to  
the police car where his deputy stood. He leaned against the car,  
not even offering to interfere.  
  
"Now, witch," said the man named Hank. "Do you have  
anything to say before you pay for your crime?"  
  
"I didn't do this," said Madelaine, defiance in her voice. "But you  
won't believe that. Like most people, you fear what you don't  
understand. My daughter and I were never a threat to you. But  
you would never believe that.  
  
"I tell you now, I am innocent. What you do in the next few  
minutes will seal your fate. The choice will be yours and yours  
alone. But know this. As proof of my innocence, where ever I am  
buried, nothing will grow on my grave. So long as the secret of  
what you do here remains hidden.  
  
"Someone will eventually come to expose your secret. The God  
fearing people of this town will be exposed for what they are.   
Pathetic, small minded, bigots who would rather destroy what they  
don't understand than try to learn about it."  
  
"Hang the witch," screamed a woman in the crowd. "She  
murdered three people. She deserves to hang."  
  
Suddenly the crowd began to chant "hang the witch". The four  
men on the roof of the courthouse smiled at each other. Phoebe  
screamed at the crowd to stop. That they didn't know what they  
were doing.  
  
Suddenly one of the men grabbed Madelaine by the arm and  
pushed her. Phoebe screamed "no" as Madelaine plunged through  
the air. When she hit the end of the rope, her body stopped  
abruptly and snapped back up into the air. She bounced on the  
end of the rope several times, then stopped, swinging from side to  
side.  
  
No one made a sound. Not even the wind stirred. Phoebe  
looked up at Madelaines' body dangling some twelve feet above  
the ground. Uncontrollably, Phoebes' head dropped into her hands  
as she burst out sobbing. Everyone else just stared at Madelaines'  
body swinging from the courthouse roof.  
  
The reality of what they had just done suddenly hit them all on  
an emotional level. They had all been so wound up to punish  
Madelaine for what they perceived was her crime, they hadn't  
stopped to realize the consequences of their actions. Now, those  
consequences came to roost within them with sickening reality.  
  
They were responsible for the death of another human being.  
  
Witch or not, she was still another human being. Most of the  
people had never been put into the position where they might have  
to kill another person. None of them had realized just how  
profoundly it would affect them. Several of the women in the crowd  
began to sob. Many of the men turned away in disgust.  
  
"Are you happy?" screamed Phoebe. "You murdered her. She  
didn't kill those men. She was at home the entire night. You just  
murdered an innocent women."  
  
Suddenly someone grabbed Phoebe from behind. The sheriff  
dragged her back to the police car.  
  
"You could be in danger," said the sheriff. "You'd better wait  
here. I don't think they'll harm you while you're in my custody."  
  
Phoebe wiped the tears from her eyes and just nodded. She  
was still in shock at seeing Madelaine murdered. The sheriff and  
the deputy stepped away from the police car and spoke for a few  
minutes. Then they came back over to the car.  
  
"I'm going to have my deputy take you back to your car," said  
the sheriff. "He'll make sure you're safely out of town before any of  
these people can do anything to you. I suggest you get out of this  
town and never come back."  
  
"What about Madelaine?" demanded Phoebe. "You're just  
going to let them get away with this?"  
  
"Listen," said the sheriff. "There's no way we can prosecute the  
entire town for what happened here. It's tragic, yes, but there's  
nothing we can do about it. Her death will be listed as a suicide.   
Brought on by the untimely death of her daughter by a hit and run  
driver."  
  
"Hit and run?" asked Phoebe. "She was shot in the back of the  
head. You call that a hit and run?"  
  
"That's what my report is going to say," said the sheriff.  
  
"What about the Collins brothers?" demanded Phoebe. "Will  
they be the victims of a hit and run driver, too?"  
  
"It's clear what happened there," said the sheriff. "They got  
drunk and fell asleep. One of them had a lit cigarette. They died  
without ever waking up when the cigarette set fire to the sofa.   
Accidental death."  
  
"You can't do this," screamed Phoebe.  
  
"Listen," said the sheriff, low and deliberately, "the last murder  
we had in this town was more than thirty years ago. If it should  
suddenly become known that we've had five murders in less than a  
week, there would be just too many questions we can't answer. Do  
yourself a favor. Go home and forget about this."  
  
The deputy took Phoebe by the arm to help her into the car.   
Suddenly Phoebe had another premonition. She and the deputy  
were standing in front of Madelaine's house. Suddenly the deputy  
pulled out his pistol and pointed it at Phoebe. Then the deputy  
pulled the trigger three times.  
  
It was clear what was going to happen. Phoebe had witnessed  
everything. If she said anything to anyone, someone would come  
to investigate. The sheriff couldn't risk that. So she was to be  
killed to keep her quiet.  
  
FIVE  
  
"Okay," she said. "I just hope you can live with what you've  
done here."  
  
She got into the passenger side of the car.  
  
The deputy got in behind the wheel and drove Phoebe back to  
Madelaines' house. As they got out of the car, Phoebe noticed the  
deputy unsnap the snap on the pistol in his holster.  
  
"I'm sorry," said the deputy as they stood next to the car. "This  
shouldn't have happened to you. You seem to be a nice woman."  
  
"I'm sorry, too," said Phoebe.  
  
Suddenly, she brought her foot up and slammed it down on the  
instep of his right foot. As the deputy involuntarily bent over to the  
pain in his foot, Phoebe brought her left hand up and hit him on the  
side of the head with the edge of her hand. The deputy slammed  
against the side of the police car as Phoebe grabbed his pistol from  
his holster.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you," said Phoebe. "But someone has to be  
told what happened here. Madelaines' death won't be a suicide.   
Everyone will know what happened here tonight."  
  
Cautiously she backed to her own car holding the pistol on the  
deputy. He was holding his right foot and rubbing the side of his  
head. Phoebe got into her car, started it, and drove as fast as she  
could out of the town.  
  
She had driven for nearly five miles when she noticed a state  
police car pass her on the highway. She spun the car around and  
sped up to catch up with him. She was honking her horn and  
flashing her lights at him. Within a couple of minutes, the lights on  
top of the car started flashing and the car pulled over to the side of  
the road. Phoebe pulled in behind him and got out of her car.  
  
"Are you insane?" demanded the officer, stepping out of his car.  
  
His hand was on his pistol. The pistol Phoebe had taken from  
the deputy lay on the seat of her car.  
  
"There was a murder," she said, tears still streaming down her  
face. "About five miles from here. They hung a woman in the town  
square. Then they tried to kill me because I witnessed it. The  
sheriff is planning to cover it up. Please, you have to come back  
with me or they'll get away with it."  
  
"Wait a minute," said the officer. "A murder? Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes," said Phoebe. "Her name was Madelaine Cruise. Her  
daughter was murdered by three men in the town. When they were  
killed, the towns people accused Madelaine of the murders. They  
hung her in the town square. Her body is probably still hanging  
there."  
  
"Okay," said the officer. "Let me call for some back up, then  
you can show me where this happened. In the mean time, try to  
compose yourself. We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise you."  
  
Phoebe leaned against the side of the state police car and took  
a deep breath. Her crying was finally beginning to subside. She  
also realized that she must have been in shock. She was now  
beginning to become extremely angry at the towns people. But  
they wouldn't get away with it. Once the state police showed up,  
everything would be out in the open.  
  
After the trooper called for back up, Phoebe led him back to  
Grovers Bend. As they reached the edge of the city, the sun was  
just beginning to peak over the horizon. Phoebe pulled the car  
over to the side of the road and the state trooper pulled in behind  
her.  
  
"I think I should ride with you from here," said Phoebe, walking  
back to the car.  
  
"Get in," said the trooper.  
  
Phoebe got into the passenger side of the car and the trooper  
pulled back onto the road. As they drove through the town, it  
looked strange, almost unreal. In the newly dawning day, Phoebe  
could see that many of the houses were extremely rundown.   
Broken windows, half missing roofs, even gaping holes in the walls  
of the houses. And almost everywhere she looked she saw uncut  
grass and weeds strangling everything they grew around.  
  
As they pulled into the town square, Phoebe couldn't believe her  
eyes. The courthouse looked in even worse condition than the  
houses. Two of the corners on the roof of the building were  
completely missing. There were no windows anywhere in the  
building. Even the front doors to the building were missing.   
Dangling from one the bell tower was a rotted, frayed rope, gently  
blowing in the wind.  
  
"Exactly where did this occur?" asked the trooper.  
  
"I don't understand," said Phoebe. "It happened. I saw it. This  
town was alive and thriving. And the courthouse wasn't in this type  
of disrepair."  
  
"Wait a minute," said the trooper. "Someone did die on that  
courthouse. That was about thirty or forty years ago. Is this some  
kind of joke?"  
  
"No, I swear," said Phoebe. "It happened. I watched it."  
  
"Look," said the trooper, "you seem sincere. I think you  
honestly believe you saw what you think you saw. Probably what  
happened was you heard the story of the woman who committed  
suicide here because of the death of her daughter. While you were  
driving through, you were probably tired, so you pulled over to get  
some rest. You dreamed a dream about what happened, woke up,  
and was convinced it happened."  
  
"No," said Phoebe, "I know it happened. I was right there. I  
watched it happened."  
  
"I see it all the time," said the trooper. "I'm sure you believe it  
really happened. Believe me, when you get home and have had a  
chance to rest up, I'm sure you'll realize what happened."  
  
"But," Phoebe began to protest.  
  
"Listen," said the trooper, "it's either that, or I take you in for  
making a false report to a police officer."  
  
"Okay," said Phoebe. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I just  
imagined it."  
  
"I'm sure you did," said the trooper. "Now, get back in and I'll  
take you back to your car."  
  
Phoebe got back into the police car and the trooper took her  
back to her car. As she got into her car, the trooper drove back to  
the highway. Phoebe looked on the front seat of the car and  
noticed the pistol she had taken from deputy was missing. She  
searched the car but couldn't find it.  
  
Something wasn't right here. She didn't know what was going  
on, but something was definitely not right. She decided to drive to  
Madelaines' house and see if she could figure out what was going  
on.  
  
As she pulled up in front of Madelaines' house, she couldn't  
believe what she saw. Instead of the peaceful house she had seen  
just a couple of hours before, there was a house. But it was  
rundown and dilapidated like the rest of the town.  
  
But what interested her the most was not the house itself. It  
was the wrought iron fenced in area in front of and to the left of the  
house. Inside the fenced area was what appeared to be two  
graves.  
  
SIX  
  
Phoebe got out of her car and walked over to the graves. One  
of them was very odd. In this lush, green countryside, nothing grew  
on that grave. A neat, rectangular shaped mound of dirt sat next to  
similar mound of which was covered with grass and a couple of  
flowers.  
  
In front of each grave was a simple wooden headstone. They  
were obviously hand carved. Each contained only a single word.   
One read simply, "Madelaine", and the other read simply, "Patty".   
There were no dates on the headstones. And the entire  
mini-graveyard appeared to be immaculately cared for. Some cut  
and dying flowers lay on both graves.  
  
"I come here and visit them every day," said a voice behind  
Phoebe. "And every Saturday, I put fresh flowers on their graves."  
  
Phoebe turned to see a man standing behind her. He was older  
than most people Phoebe had met. He must have been in his late  
sixties or early seventies. He was carrying two bunches of freshly  
cut flowers. She watched as he carefully removed the dying  
flowers from the graves. Then, carefully, almost gingerly, he  
placed the fresh ones in their place.  
  
"No one remembers them any more," said the man. "No one  
but me." He turned to Phoebe. "My name is John. You're too  
young to have known them. What brings you out here?"  
  
"Too young?" asked Phoebe. "I'm sorry. My name is Phoebe  
Halliwell. To be honest, I'm not sure. Things are still a bit jumbled  
up. I'm not sure what happened."  
  
John looked her over. He eyed her with the eyes of a  
seasoned, wise man. A look that said he had seen more in his life  
than most people ever imagined.  
  
"You have the sight, don't you?" he asked.  
  
"I'm sorry?" questioned Phoebe. "The sight?"  
  
"Yes," said John. "That's what my grand daddy used to call it.   
The sight. You see things other people don't see. That's what's  
brought you out here."  
  
"Well, yes, sort of," said Phoebe. "Sometimes, I do have visions  
of a sort. How did you know?"  
  
"It's the only reason you'd be here," said John. "Do you know  
about Madelaine? What happened to her and her daughter?"  
  
"I'm not sure," said Phoebe. "I'm not sure of anything any  
more."  
  
"She was a witch, you know," said John. "Oh, not like the kind  
you see in the movies. No boiling cauldrons and black cats and  
pointy little hats. She was a real witch. Practiced what she called  
The Craft. She never harmed a person in her entire life."  
  
"I know," said Phoebe. "This may sound strange, but she told  
me. Not more than two hours ago. But now, everything has  
changed. I've had visions of the future before, and sometimes  
even of the past. But nothing like this before."  
  
"Then you know what happened to Patty," said John. "I loved  
her like she was my own daughter. And those bastards brutalized  
her. Murdered her just for the sport of it."  
  
"I know," said Phoebe. "I saw it. Well, actually, I had a vision of  
it."  
  
"But you don't know the whole story," said John. "What really  
happened."  
  
"Not all of it," said Phoebe. "I know the towns people hung  
Madelaine from the courthouse."  
  
"Yes," said John. "I tried to stop them. But, someone hit me  
and I blacked out. When I came to, the towns people were gone  
and Madelaine was dead. Hanging from that accursed corner on  
the top of the courthouse. I cut her down and buried her out here,  
alongside her daughter."  
  
Phoebe remembered the tattered rope dangling from the  
courthouse. Even after all these years, it still hung where the towns  
people had strung it.  
  
"Exactly what happened?" asked Phoebe.  
  
"They accused her of murdering the Collins boys," said John.   
"For what they had done to Patty. But it wasn't her. She hadn't  
gone near them. When I found out what had happened, it didn't  
take me long to figure out who had done it.  
  
"I was supposed to pick Patty up from school that day. But I  
was working on a car and got tied up. I was a mechanic in those  
days. And a damn good one. Anyway, Patty waited for me, then  
decided to walk home.  
  
"About halfway home, the Collins boys caught up with her.   
They decided to have some fun with her. Assaulted her, beat her,  
then just shot her in the head. Like she was some sort of dumb  
animal. They were even bragging about it the next day down at the  
local bar. The sheriff was too frightened of them to do anything  
about it.  
  
"I was frightened of them, too. But I was also angry. The more  
I thought about it, the angrier I got. So I got my rifle and went out  
to their place. When they saw me, they started taunting me.   
Laughing at me, saying I didn't have the guts to do anything about  
it. They laughed, all right. Right up until I put a bullet in the first  
ones' head."  
  
"You killed them," said Phoebe.  
  
"Yes," said John. "Madelaine and I were talking about getting  
married. My own wife had died several years before. My son was  
away at college at the time. After I shot the first one, I followed the  
others. Didn't stop until I had killed each one of them.  
  
"Then I put them in their house and burned it to the ground.   
Good riddance to bad rubbish. I had avenged Patty for what they'd  
done to her. I knew she would rest easier for what I'd done."  
  
"But the towns people blamed Madelaine for that," said Phoebe.   
"Even though they hated the Collins brothers, Madelaine was an  
outsider. And a witch at that."  
  
"Yes," said John. "When I found out what was going on, it was  
too late. They were already at the courthouse. Madelaine died  
because of what I did. She shouldn't have. It's my fault she's  
buried there. It should be me."  
  
"No, it's not your fault," said Phoebe. "The towns people were  
to blame. You couldn't have known they would do that. You can't  
hold yourself responsible."  
  
"But I do," said John. "I have for the last twenty seven years.   
It's the strangest thing, though. I can't get anything to grow on  
Madelaines' grave. No matter what I do, nothing will grow."  
  
"She said it wouldn't," said Phoebe. She related to him what  
Madelaine had said just before she was pushed from the top of the  
courthouse. "Until the secret comes out, nothing will grow on that  
grave. I know a little something of The Craft myself."  
  
"I always wondered what happened in those last few minutes,"  
said John. "I do know the town dried up after that. The young  
people all moved away. The older ones started dying off  
eventually. Soon, no one was left. No one but me. I've been here  
ever since."  
  
"What happened here was horrible," said Phoebe. "It's hard to  
imagine that something like that could actually happen in this  
country. A hundred years ago, maybe. But something so recent?"  
  
"Hate and prejudice know no time constraints," said John.   
"Madelaines' death was listed as suicide. Pattys' was called a hit  
and run. Both were quietly locked away where they stay hidden to  
this day. Only I know the truth."  
  
"I do, too, now," said Phoebe. "Madelaine said that some day,  
someone would come to expose what happened here. Maybe I'm  
that person. Maybe I'm the one who can expose it."  
  
"What can you do?" asked John. He sat down on the ground  
with his back resting against the wrought iron fence. "They won't  
listen to you any more than they would listen to me. In the end, all I  
could do was mourn them. And keep fresh flowers on their graves.   
At least they aren't totally forgotten. Suddenly, I'm so very tired."  
  
Phoebe looked around her. It was a very peaceful scene. The  
newly risen sun cast a bright, cheery light on everything it touched.   
Even the two lonesome graves near the rundown out house  
seemed less displaced than they had when she had first seen  
them.  
  
She looked down at John and started to speak. She stopped  
abruptly as she saw him sitting against the fence staring straight  
ahead. She didn't need to check. She could tell that he was dead.   
As if he had passed on his heavy burden finally and had simply  
moved on. She bent down and kissed him on the forehead.  
  
"I'll tell them," she said. "I don't know how, but I'll get someone  
to listen to me. You can rest now."  
  
She looked up as she heard a car pull in behind hers. She  
tensed slightly for a moment when she realized it was a sheriffs'  
car. A man wearing a uniform, badge, and gun got out of the car.   
She forced herself to relax when she realized this couldn't possibly  
be the same sheriff who had only hours ago tried to have her  
murdered.  
  
The man walked over and looked down at John. He smiled to  
Phoebe, then knelt down and put his fingers against Johns' neck.   
Then he stood up.  
  
"I'm Sheriff Johnson," he said, shaking Phoebes' hand. "I  
usually stop by her on Saturday mornings when John puts the  
flowers on their graves. He was a strange old bird. But he was  
also my friend. I'm sorry to see him go."  
  
"Phoebe Halliwell," said Phoebe. "He was very sweet. I only  
met him a few moments ago, but I can tell he was a very caring  
person."  
  
"That he was," said Johnson. "He never did tell me why these  
graves were so important to him. I know they weren't related. But  
he was obviously very attached to them. They meant a great deal  
to him."  
  
"Yes, they did," said Phoebe.  
  
"I'll call a mortuary and make arrangements to have him buried,"  
said Johnson.  
  
"I think he should be buried there," said Phoebe, pointing inside  
the iron fence. "Next to Madelaine and Patty. I think he would  
have wanted that."  
  
"Yes, he would have," said Johnson. "Can I have your address  
and phone number? I'm sure the newspaper will want it for their  
article on his death. John didn't have many friends. I'd like them to  
list more than just me and his son. If that's alright with you."  
  
"Sure," said Phoebe. "I'd be glad to be listed as his friend."   
She gave him her address and phone number. "Could you send  
me a copy of the obituary?"  
  
"No problem," said Johnson. He turned to the body. "Goodbye,  
John. I hope that whatever demons plagued you in life aren't able  
to find you where ever you are now."  
  
Phoebe found it somewhat ironic that the sheriff should use that  
particular word. She waited until the ambulance had taken Johns'  
body away, then got into her car and started the long drive home.  
  
SEVEN  
  
"Well, it's about time you got home," said Piper as Phoebe  
walked into the house just past noon that day.  
  
Paige was just coming down the stairs and Piper and Leo were  
coming out of the kitchen. Cole sat in the living room reading the  
newspaper. Phoebe didn't sling the door closed as she usually did.   
She carefully turned and closed it, making sure it was completely  
shut, then turned back to her family.  
  
"Phoebe, what is it?" asked Leo. "You look like you've just seen  
a ghost."  
  
"Funny you should say that," said Phoebe. "Come into the living  
room. I have something I need to tell all of you."  
  
They all sat quietly in the living room as Phoebe related the  
entire story from beginning to end. More than once, she saw  
moisture in Pipers' and Paiges' eyes as she told of the brutal  
assault and the hanging. Leo sat listening intently with his brow  
furrowed as he usually did.  
  
"Honey, that's an awful story," said Piper, hugging Phoebe  
close. "You must have been terrified."  
  
"I was," said Phoebe. "There was nothing I could do to stop  
them. Maybe if I had your freezing power, I could have saved her."  
  
"No, you couldn't," said Leo. "Phoebe, you weren't actually  
there. It was all a vision. Nothing you did would have changed  
what happened. It happened almost thirty years ago. You can't  
change the past."  
  
"But I've never experienced that before," said Phoebe. "It was a  
real as you are. How do you explain that?"  
  
"Phoebe," said Leo, "you had gone to make peace with your  
mothers' death. She and Madelaine died on the same day several  
years apart. You were still immersed in your thoughts of your  
mother when you had the first vision. The one of the assault.  
  
"Somehow, because of all that, you were brought into the vision.   
To act as a witness for what happened. No matter what you might  
have done, she'd still be dead. There was nothing you could do to  
change that."  
  
"I think this happened so that the memory of what happened  
would live on," said Piper. "You said John died almost as soon as  
he finished telling you what really happened. I think that,  
somehow, Madelaines' curse brought you into that town. So that  
you could get the whole story before John died. So that it wouldn't  
die with him."  
  
"A witches' curse can be very powerful," said Cole. "It can live  
on even decades after their death. Until someone comes along to  
lift that curse, Grovers Bend will stay a ghost town."  
  
"What do I do now?" asked Phoebe. "Who do I tell about this?   
It's a thirty year old murder. Even if someone listens to me, what  
good will it do? They can't change anything. It won't bring any of  
them back."  
  
"I think you need to get some rest," said Paige. "You look  
exhausted. Rest up tonight and we'll try to think of something in  
the morning."  
  
"Okay," said Phoebe. "I guess I am pretty tired. I didn't get  
much sleep last night. I think I'll go lie down."  
  
She got up and went upstairs to her room. Cole didn't go with  
her. He knew that, in this, she had to be alone. At least for a  
while. As much as he wanted to go to her and comfort her, he  
knew there were some things she had to work out for herself. He  
hadn't felt this helpless even after loosing his powers.  
  
"I can't imagine going through something like that," said Paige,  
after Phoebe had left the room. "I hear stories like that all time at  
work. But I've never known anyone personally who went through  
it."  
  
"She's going to need us in the next few days," said Leo. "While  
it was all a vision, she experienced it as if she had actually been  
there. As if she's the one it happened to. That's got to be a heavy  
burden to carry."  
  
"Well," said Piper, "for now, let's just let her rest. That's  
probably the best thing for her. Then we can decide what to do  
about it."  
  
Phoebe slept for two days. None of the others disturbed her.   
They all realized what an ordeal she had been through. When she  
was ready, they would talk about it and make plans to deal with it.  
  
When Phoebe woke up on Tuesday morning, none of the dread  
or horror she had experienced had passed. She still remembered  
vividly every moment of her time in Grovers Bend. She, her sisters,  
and Leo and Cole sat around the table talking about it.  
  
Suddenly there was a knock at the front door. Paige got up and  
went to the door to answer it while the rest of them continued to  
talk. After a few minutes, Paige came back into the kitchen,  
followed by a man in a suit and carrying a briefcase.  
  
"Phoebe," said Paige, "this man wants to speak to you."  
  
"Yes," said Phoebe, looking up at the man.  
  
There really was no enthusiasm in her. Her ordeal still weighed  
heavily on her. But as she looked up at the man, for just an instant,  
she thought she saw John standing there. Then she realized this  
man was much too young to be John. Besides, John was dead.  
  
"My name is Jack Bennet," said the man. "The mortuary in  
Leadsville gave me your address. I hope you don't mind."  
  
"No, not at all," said Phoebe. "What can I do for you."  
  
"John was my father," said the man. "Sheriff Johnson said you  
were the last one to be with him. I just wanted to thank you for  
being there for him. I really means a lot to me."  
  
Phoebe stood up and looked at the man. He was in his mid to  
late forties. His hair was turning gray and he was somewhat  
heavier than John. But she could see John in him. Mostly in the  
eyes. They were the exact same shade of emerald green as  
Johns'.  
  
"Please," said Phoebe, "have a seat. I didn't know your father  
very long. Only a few minutes, really. But I know that he was a  
very special man."  
  
"Yes, he was," said Jack. "Tell me? Did he say anything to  
you? About why he was at those graves? He would never talk  
about it. To me or anyone else. I was away at college when they  
died. But after that, my father changed. I never did find out why.   
Did he say anything that might indicate what it was that caused the  
change?"  
  
Phoebe thought for a moment. She had told John that she  
would tell people what had happened in Grovers Bend. But she  
didn't have a clue where to start. Now, it seemed, she had the  
perfect place to start. It seemed only fitting that Johns' son be the  
first to know what happened there.  
  
"How much do you know about Madelaine and her daughter?"  
asked Phoebe.  
  
"Well," said Jack, "people said Madelaine was a witch. I knew  
her daughter. She was about five years younger than I was.   
Neither of them seemed to have caused anyone any harm, though.  
  
"I do know that Patty was apparently killed by a hit and run  
driver. They never found the guy. Madelaine became distraught  
over her death and eventually committed suicide by hanging herself  
from the corner of the courthouse. That's about all I know.  
  
"But that wouldn't account for my dads' change. He wrote me  
about Madelaine while I was in college. But he only said that they  
were getting to be very good friends. I don't understand why her  
death would have affected him so profoundly. And, as I said, he  
would never talk about it."  
  
"Jack," said Phoebe, "there's a reason your father was so  
profoundly affected by her death. And the death of Patty. Yes, he  
did tell me something. Something I believe you have a right to  
know."  
  
Jack sat patiently as Phoebe related everything John had told  
her. She carefully omitted the part about her vision, telling him of  
Madelaines' last minutes as if it had been relayed to her by John.   
Jack sat transfixed by every word that Phoebe spoke.  
  
"I never imagined," he said, when she had finished. "I knew  
Madelaine and dad were getting close, but I never imagined they  
had been talking marriage. No wonder he closed himself off after  
that. You know he never left the town after that?"  
  
"Yes, he told me," said Phoebe.  
  
"I'm not sure you understand," said Jack. "He never physically  
left the city limits from the day Madelaine died. Not once. Only to  
place flowers on the two graves every Saturday. He never missed  
a week. No matter what the weather was. I understand now why  
he was the way he was. It must have been horrible."  
  
"I promised your father the story wouldn't die with him," said  
Phoebe. "I promised him that I'll tell someone about it. So that his  
sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. So I guess it's only fitting that I start  
with you."  
  
"More than fitting," said Jack, opening his briefcase and  
removing a legal pad. "I need to write down everything you've told  
me. Anything you can remember. No matter how small or  
seemingly insignificant."  
  
"Why?" asked Piper.  
  
"Oh, I guess I didn't tell you," said Jack. "I'm a writer. Mostly  
biographies and such. I'm currently working on a book about  
Grovers Bend. It was a booming town for many decades. Then it  
just suddenly dried up. This is the first clue I've had as to why."  
  
Phoebe just looked at Jack. Somehow, Madelaine had  
foreseen this. Phoebe wouldn't be the one to tell people about  
Groves Bend. Jack would be. Her spirits lifted as she realized that  
Jack would finally be able to expose what really happened in that  
town.  
  
For the rest of the day Phoebe and Jack sat in the kitchen  
talking. Phoebe went over the story again and again as Jack asked  
question after question. He scribbled notes down on the legal pad  
as fast as he could write. When they were finished, almost the  
entire pad was filled.  
  
"This is great," said Jack, smiling. "When I came here I only  
wanted to thank you for what you did for my father. And maybe get  
some inkling of what might have caused the change in him. I never  
imagined I would learn all this."  
  
"I know what you mean," said Phoebe. "When I drove into  
Grovers' Ben, I was just looking for some gas. I never thought  
anything like this might have happened."  
  
"Well," said Jack, "I appreciate your taking all this time to help  
me. I know that a lot of people have wondered what happened to  
Grovers Bend. I just sort of died out almost over night. Now, all  
those questions will be answered."  
  
"Good," said Phoebe. "They deserve to now what happened  
there. That Madelaine didn't commit suicide. And that Patty wasn't  
killed by a hit and run driver. Tell me. Will you use everything I've  
told you?"  
  
"You mean will I tell people how my father killed the Collins  
boys?" asked Jack. "Yes, I probably will. At the very least, it was a  
crime of passion. I don't think anyone will think the worse of him  
after they know the truth. If I'm going to tell this story, I have to tell  
the whole story. It's the only way to set the record straight."  
  
Phoebe felt better than she had since she had first driven into  
Grovers Bend. She still felt the horror and disgust at what had  
happened there. But she knew that, in time, that would pass. And  
one day the entire world would know the truth of what had  
happened there.  
  
She saw Jack to the front door, then went to her room to talk  
with Cole. She had been ignoring him lately. He deserved to know  
what she was going through and what she was feeling. When she  
was finished with Cole, she planned to also talk to Piper and Leo  
and to Paige.  
  
EIGHT  
  
Phoebe got out of the car in front of Madelaines' rundown out  
house. Piper, Leo, Paige, and Cole got out with her. It had been a  
week since John had died. During that week, Phoebe had made a  
decision.  
  
John had spent twenty seven years placing flowers on  
Madelaines' and Pattys' graves every Saturday. This would be the  
first Saturday that he wouldn't be there. Somehow, she felt  
obligated to do it for him. To show Madelaine and Patty that they  
weren't forgotten.  
  
"I won't be long," said Phoebe. "I'm glad you all understand  
about this. It's just something I have to do."  
  
"No need to explain, sweetie," said Piper, kissing Phoebe on the  
cheek. "We all have things we have to do. After what you went  
through, it's the least we can do."  
  
"Yeah," said Paige. "Besides, it might help to put this behind  
you."  
  
Phoebe didn't say a word. She reached into the back of the car  
and pulled out three bunches of freshly cut flowers. Although she  
couldn't be completely sure, she was pretty sure they were the  
same bouquets that John had brought with him a week ago.  
  
Phoebe turned and walked over to the graves. There were  
three now, instead of two. The third grave was fresh. The  
headstone over it read simply "John". It was remarkably similar to  
the other two. Phoebe felt it was appropriate that all three  
headstones held only those single words.  
  
Carefully, she removed the dying flowers that John had placed  
there. Then she carefully placed the flowers on each of the graves.   
She stood up and looked at the graves. That's when she noticed it.   
Sprouting from Madelaines' grave were the unmistakable signs of  
new grass. Growing on a grave that hadn't grown anything for  
twenty seven years.  
  
As Phoebe stood looking at the grass growing on the grave,  
Madelaine simply appeared. Phoebe and the others looked at her.   
She stood behind her headstone. And she was glowing. Which  
meant that she was not a living being but a spirit.  
  
"Thank you," she said to Phoebe. "I have waited for a long time  
for you to come. A long time to tell what happened here. Now, my  
daughter and I can finally rest in peace. And John is finally at  
peace as well."  
  
"You're welcome," Phoebe choked out. Madelaine looked  
exactly as she had when Phoebe had spoken with her in her  
house. "I'm just sorry it took so long for me to get here. Now,  
everyone will know what happened here."  
  
"I know," said Madelaine. "I must go now. But know that you  
will always have my thanks. And the thanks of my daughter and of  
John. Blessed be."  
  
"Blessed be," said Phoebe as the spirit faded from this world.  
  
She walked back to the car and hugged her family close. She  
was crying again, but this time they were tears of joy, not anger or  
sorrow. She had vanquished her share of demons. And she had  
helped stop evil in a dozens different forms and guises.  
  
This one thank you had made her entire ordeal worth while.   
The horror of that ordeal would stay with her for a long time. But  
that thank you would remain with her for the rest of her life.  
  
The End  
  
If you've enjoyed this story, you can find more of my stories for a  
variety of shows and subjects at  
http://pub57.ezboard.com/bjerrysfanfictionsite. You can also post  
your stories if you like to write fan fiction. 


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